Untitled
by Arumei
Summary: 15 drabble challenge centered around Blake/Jayden. Rated M for eventual smut.
1. Phobia

**National Novel Writing Month is in two short weeks! In order to get my own juices flowing, and to show my support for the event that gets teenagers and adults alike to make use of their own unique creativity, I'm challenging myself to put up a drabble every day until the 1****st****. (Technically, a drabble is supposed to be 100 words, but my long winded ass can't pull that off…so I'm using the term loosely here). Then I'll get back to my other story. Not that I'll reach the 50,000 word goal, haha. **

**In addition to wanting to hype up NaNoWriMo, I really don't have time for long updates at the moment (these little updates are written while I'm at work waiting for my slow ass computer to load) But I love writing, and I'd feel bad if I didn't throw something out for a long period of time.**

**I'm labeling this M because…Well. You know how it goes. But also be prepared for sappiness, fighting, and possible outright stupidity, because I'm not going to let myself agonize over any of these in order to polish them to the point where I think they're decent. I'm using a word prompt generator, but feel free to throw out random words or requests in a review.**

**And participate in NaNo~! I'll read and review anything put out. Even if it's not Blake/Jayden. The only thing I love more than writing is reading. **

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><p><strong>Day One<strong>

**Prompt: Phobia**

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><p>His vision grew unfocused once the shaking started to set in. The crowd of people walking around him began to blur, their conversations decreasing in both volume and coherency as his head began to spin. Norman was acutely aware of the small particles of sweat dripping down his back despite the rest of his senses dulling – in an effort to regain his composure, he tightly closed his eyes, rapidly opening them several times as he took several deep breathes.<p>

_Control your breathing; put your hands in your pockets…You can't let Blake see this…_

All the sensations coursing through his body were familiar to Norman, but for once it wasn't withdrawals causing the symptoms. It was fear.

"Oh man oh man oh man! I wanna ride that one next!" Shaun squealed excitedly, jumping up and down as he pointed to the exact object of Norman's terror. A huge metal roller coaster dominated the view before them, easily standing over 300 feet tall as a cart soured down its largest drop, passengers screaming in glee.

"I-I don't know if you're tall enough for that one, Shaun," Norman tried feebly.

Carter craned his neck back to face the two of them, glancing from Shaun's disappointed look to Norman's purposefully blank expression in confusion and irritation. "What are you babbling about, Norm? He rode the last ones just fine. C'mon, let's go," he jerked his head towards the considerable line of people eagerly waiting to be the ones next to experience the adrenaline-pumping death trap.

It was more Shaun's let-down expression than Carter's order that sent small flutters of guilt throughout Norman's body. Who was he to ruin the kid's fun? "Ah…Yeah. You guys go ahead, I'll stay back'n get us some food…"

Carter's eyes narrowed slightly as he turned around completely, hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans. "We just ate. C'mon, pansy." With a few short steps he closed the distance between them, reaching forward to pull Norman by the arm towards him, and subsequently closer to the roller coaster itself.

"_No!"_

Carter stopped yanking his arm in shock, and Norman seized the opportunity to completely break off their physical contact. For a moment Carter simply stared at him – before his face broke out into a malicious grin.

"You're afraid of heights." It wasn't a question.

"I-...I am not," he stammered, his voice betraying him.

"Liar." The grin widened, making Norman's face heat up in embarrassment. It only reddened further on seeing the corner of Shaun's mouth twitch upward as well.

"Well…you haven't gone with us on a single rollercoaster yet…" Norman was taken aback by the teasing undertone in _Shaun _of all people's voice; the one person he _swore_ would always be his ally. For him to join Carter in making fun of him – that was the ultimate betrayal.

The police lieutenant shot Shaun a look of approval before casting his gaze back to Norman, the grin on his face transforming into a smirk. "Let's go, Shaun. Mister Jayden over here's too chicken…"

The sympathetic look Shaun gave him was completely spoiled by the smile on his face that he was unable to completely erase. Nodding to Carter's order, he began to walk away to secure them a spot in line.

Once Shaun was out of earshot, Carter brushed closer against Norman, his lips just barely not touching the agent's earlobe. "C'mon, Norm. Humor the kid…" He leaned back, laughing lightly when Norman glared at him. "I'll even let'yah hold my hand if you get scared."

Still chuckling, Carter walked away, hands still in his pockets as he casually followed the path Shaun had taken. Despite the condescending taunt, Norman bit his lower lip in an effort to hold back any sort of verbal retaliation.

After all, he might need to take Carter up on that offer.


	2. Power

**Day Two**

**Prompt: Power**

**I feel like I should add a quick disclaimer here - the opinions expressed are based on how I would interpret Jayden and Blake's viewpoints, not my own. **

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><p>Norman slammed his work phone shut with entirely too much force as he contemplated the piece of bad news he had just received from one of his colleagues. All the work he'd done collecting and analyzing evidence, destroyed in one fell swoop. He wasn't just sent back to square one – he'd been completely thrown off the fucking board without any guarantee of ever returning.<p>

"What's wrong with you?"

The words were spoken in a tone Norman didn't often hear from the gruff cop. If his mind wasn't so frazzled with anger, he'd stop to analyze the implications – it seemed to be full of genuine interest, bordering on concern. As he turned to face Carter Blake, his suspicions were proven correct. The man's brow was furrowed in confusion as he looked the agent up and down, noting his tense shoulders and agitated expression.

"We just hit a complete dead end," Norman hesitated a moment – he knew damn well he wasn't authorized to divulge in the details of his case to Carter, who even as a police lieutenant had no government clearance. At the moment, however, he was far too frustrated to care. "We were so _fuckin' _close to getting this guy we _know_ is running a human trafficking ring from Africa to the US – but it turns out he's a citizen_ here_. We have to suspend our investigation." Norman sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Before he could continue ranting about the latest stress his job had provided, however, Carter interrupted him.

"Wait wait wait – You know the guys selling _people_ underground, and you're just going to stop going after him?" Carter asked. The slight concern vanished from his voice, replaced with disgust.

"I never said that," he shot back angrily. "Of course we're going to keep going after the bah'stad, we just can't tap his phones or eneh'thin until we get a court order."

"Why? Who gives a shit if he's a citizen?"

Norman threw his hands into the air in frustration. "The _Constitution_ gives a shit, Cartah! You can't just wiretap people's phones without due process! American people are protected against illegal search'n seizure, and the Supreme Court's ruled phone conversations qualify." If he was honest, Norman doubted Carter had even read the document in question. And if he had – well, he had missed a rather important amendment, as evidenced by Carter breaking in to Nathaniel's apartment without a warrant all those months ago.

"…You said you had proof he's trafficking people," Carter pointed out, changing the direction of the argument.

"Yeah, but it was technically obtained_ illegally- _It can't be used in court anymore."

Rising to the defensive, Carter jumped out of his seat on the couch. "Like I said – who gives a shit? He's selling _people!_ While you're sitting on your _ass_ getting a bullshit court order from some asshole in a wig that's separate from the whole situation, this guy has more time to sell fuckin' _kids_ into prostitution and slavery!"

In the back of Norman's brain he registered dully how quickly their discussion had turned into another heated argument within seconds. It certainly wasn't the first time, but the nature of their disagreement was striking a very raw, vulnerable nerve. The frustration of the set back, combined with his own values being called into question again, were enough that Norman felt no desire to douse the figurative flame this time around.

"_Well, I'm so fucking sorry, Blake!_ I forgot I was talking to the guy who wipes his_ ass_ with people's Miranda Rights. Even if we interdicted him, we couldn't hold him for a single charge because _we have no evidence!" _

"See, this is exactly the kind of shit I'm talking about, _Norman!_ If you spent half as much time arresting criminals as you spent protecting them, maybe we'd see the streets cleaning up! If you can't admit that, then maybe you should just_ get the fuck out!_"

Hatred – pure, raw, unfiltered hatred – surged through Norman's system as the deranged cop's words echoed in his brain. Each word vibrated painfully against his skull, his hands shaking equally hard; yet out of desire to strangle the man in front of him more than stress. "…You know what, Blake? I think you just found somethin' we can agree on."

Carter's teeth flashed as his mouth twisted to form a tight grin. Without waiting for the undoubtedly snide response lingering on the edge of his tongue, Norman turned on his heel and stormed through the house to the front door in long, furious strides. Slamming the door, Norman paused to lean against the wooden frame for a moment to collect his bearing.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was angriest at – Carter, or the situation. A part of him – the part that had shoved the bouncer in Blue Lagoon into the wall and threatened to shoot Jackson Neville – agreed with every word Carter had just said. It wasn't fair that he had to obey every law to the letter in order to capture criminals that would gleefully break every one of them. But a larger part of him argued right back that breaking the law to catch criminals made him no better than the criminals themselves. Moreover, if he couldn't obey the rules of the land, he had no business enforcing them.

It didn't change the fact that Carter was right in one sense; that every second spent getting a signature from a judge was another second that an innocent teenaged girl was forced to sell her body, only seeing a tiniest fraction of the money collected for it. That every minute he wasted gathering evidence of the man's previous crimes could be used instead to prevent more from occurring.

Norman knew that part of the reason Carter loved his job was because of the power – but the one thing Norman hated about his was the powerlessness.


	3. Wager

**I'm a complete asshole. Plain and simple. I'm so sorry, work was murderous this past week and even my precious weekend was so busy I hardly got to enjoy it. I'll catch up on the days I missed over the course of a few days – or, at least, I definitely probably won't fall further behind. Maybe. (I think I'm 5 days behind? Oh god.)**

**On that note, I had a ridiculous amount of fun with this prompt. Seriously. These are supposed to be shorter, but I couldn't help myself.**

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><p><strong>Day Three<strong>

**Prompt: Wager**

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><p>"You're wastin' your time, Cartah. I'm not 'eneh good at this."<p>

It pained him to admit it, but the words were true. No matter what card game they played, no matter how many rounds they'd had, Norman had yet to win a single hand. It didn't seem fair or right – someone with a psychology degree should be able to gauge when their opponent was lying, or notice the subtle signs displayed when they had drawn a good hand; but Carter's face was remarkably blank except for the occasional small smile Norman was entirely unable of interpreting.

"You could be good at this if you actually tried," Carter responded while drawing a few more cards.

"I _am _tryin'," Norman admitted, pride dwindling even as the words were spoken, "It's not my fault I never get a good hand…"

Carter looked up from his cards in amusement, eying the agent seated across from him with a smirk. "That's the point of the game, dumbass. You hafta be able to win with what you're dealt. I'm trying to teach you an important life lesson here - you should be grateful…"

Norman snorted in disbelief. "Bullshit. You just like seein' me lose."

"Nah, the satisfaction of beating your ass leveled out after the fifteenth hand or so," Carter laughed. He paused for a moment, his amused expression fading into a more thoughtful one as he adjusted the freshly drawn cards in his hand. "Actually, we should raise the stakes a little…"

"What, like wagering? I'm not losin' 'eneh money to you," Norman replied irritably, sending the older man a stubborn glare.

Carter didn't respond immediately, moving a hand up instead to his goatee. For a moment he scratched the facial hair thoughtfully before drawing his hand away entirely to reveal a wide grin. "That's not really what I had in mind, Norm."

Several confused seconds passed before Norman caught on to the cop's suggestion. Face flushing at the realization, he shook his head firmly. "I'm_ not_ playin' strip poker with you, Cartah. No way."

"What, you scared? C'mon, it'll make the game more interesting." Before Norman could argue further, Carter placed his cards into the discard pile in the middle of the table. "I'll even start things off. I don't have shit this round anyway."

Carter reached up to his neck and undid the knot in his tie one-handed, jerking the cloth off entirely once it was undone. With a slight smirk, he threw the tie across the table where it fell softly into Norman's lap. "Hold on to that, I'll be usin' it to tie you up later."

Norman's face reddened further at the words. Stifling a cough, he redirected his focus onto watching Carter shuffle the deck of cards so they could begin their high-stakes game anew. Somehow, despite his initial refusal, he felt a flutter of excitement in the pit of his stomach. If he could miraculously turn things around despite his abysmal performance so far, thus making_ Carter _strip for_ him _– it'd invalidate all his previous losses, to be certain.

He picked the hand Carter had dealt him, a newfound resolve filling his system as he looked over his cards. One quick glance told him that he'd been dealt three Aces – not the best hand in the world, but certainly not the worst. The purposefully blank expression on Carter's face left him feeling that it'd do the job.

"Three of a kind," he proclaimed with a slight grin, setting the cards down onto the table in display.

"Flush," Carter set the cards down in proof, taking a swing of his beer before continuing, "You can start with your tie, too."

Anger and embarrassment surged through him as he yanked the cloth off irritably, the knot undoing itself in the process. He flung his first loss aside, Carter watching him closely in amusement.

Norman took a breath to calm himself before he replaced the cards. Rather than analyzing his hand, he thought for a moment on exactly how many rounds Carter's little game could go on for. Both men were still wearing their work clothes, without the ties, of course. And Norman had already removed his suit jacket upon entering Carter's home – a decision he was now kicking himself in the ass for, as it could've served as one last protective barrier. That left their work shirts, pants, underwear, and socks.

A new thought struck him, and he glanced up at Carter. "Do socks count as one or two?"

Carter propped an elbow onto the table, resting his face into his hand as he sent the agent a condescending smile. "Grasping for straws already, Norm? It counts as one."

Ignoring the burning in his cheeks again, Norman looked down at his cards for the first time and winced. All he had was a pair of sevens. Biting his lower lip slightly, he stole a glance up at Carter. The lieutenant was still surveying him with that goddamn smile dominating his features. It'd have to do.

"Two of a kind," he mumbled, setting the cards down.

Carter leaned forward to observe the cards, his smile now as wide as it could get. "Ain't that a bitch. I have two eights."

Refusing to even look at the cop, Norman leaned under the table to yank off his socks, throwing them aside to join his discarded tie. Still avoiding eye contact, he drew new cards again and looked them over.

Nothing.

Not a god damn thing. Lady Luck couldn't even grant him a pair of _twos. _Humiliation flushed his system as he glanced up unwillingly to the monster across the table. He broke eye contact quickly, his gaze lingering on the tie in his lap instead. The piece of cloth served as an answer to his unspoken question. Folding counted.

"…I fold," he whispered almost inaudibly, displaying his hand onto the table shamefully.

"What's that?"

"I fold! Fuck!" Norman began to angrily unbutton the expensive undershirt with excessive force, not even slightly concerned when he ripped a few out of their sewing entirely. He shrugged himself out of the sleeves, letting the blouse fall onto the floor as he set his gaze firmly on the table. The cold air of Carter's living room bit against his now exposed arms and torso.

Without looking up he knew his now-half naked state was being closely observed. Norman felt no desire to steal a glance and see if he was correct in that assumption - modesty had been ingrained into his personality since birth, which made being around the older man in such an exposed manner beyond embarrassing. If Carter had at least lost his shirt as well, the situation might be more bearable – but he remained fully clothed while Norman sat plainly on display. The fact that he now only had two highly personal articles of clothing remaining left Norman feeling extremely vulnerable.

_You lose 'enethin' else and…you know damn well what'll happen. _Even as the thought ran through his mind, a traitorous yet honest part of himself finished it, _…Not…that that's a bad thing, actually._

Scowling more at himself than Carter, Norman reached forward to grab a new set of cards. It took all his willpower to stop a wide grin from taking over his features as he reviewed them. All five were spades – though his experience with poker was highly limited, he knew it was a damn good hand. It was with no hesitation that he set the cards down.

"You have a terrible poker face," Carter commented dryly, his cheek still pressed against his hand as he laid down a set of nines in defeat. "About fuckin' time you won a round, though. These pants were getting confining."

Norman coughed in surprise as Carter skipped over removing his shirt entirely, in place unbuckling his belt before sliding off his work pants in a quick, fluid motion. He knew winning a round would just prolong the inevitable, but he had hoped it'd at least humble the man across him even a little. Not only was he wrong, the victory had actually managed to_ backfire_ on him – Carter didn't seem to share his modesty in the slightest, evidenced as he leaned back in his chair comfortably. One quick glance downward revealed a very obvious bulge in the lieutenant's briefs, leaving no doubt in Norman's mind what Carter thought of their match so far.

If Carter noticed Norman's increased nervousness at the lieutenant's sudden state of half-nakedness, he gave no sign of it. Reaching forward, he replaced his cards, squinting at them slightly before chuckling softly. The sound sent a chill down Norman's spine. "Just go ahead and take'em off, Norm. Unless you've got anything that can beat four of a kind."

Norman didn't need to glance down at his cards again to know he didn't. Mentally, he began cursing any and every god for letting him get in to this situation. He had sworn off games of chance years ago; he had _terrible_ luck, and both knew and acknowledged that fact.

He set the cards down wordlessly, the movement slow and laborious. Against his will, his gaze flickered to Carter's face. The open grin on the man's face set Norman's cheeks practically on fire once more as he slowly – unwillingly – unbuckled his own belt. For a fleeting moment, he thought of protesting that the belt should theoretically count as a clothing article – before remembering Carter had removed his own without protest, setting the precedent.

Sliding the belt out of the loops, Norman's hands clumsily attempted to unbutton his pants, the small button slipping through his shaking fingers several times before he managed to grasp and undo it. Not daring to look at Carter in fear of losing his nerve entirely, he pulled off his pants as quickly as possible. The burning red on his face contrasted greatly with the rest of his now exposed, pale flesh.

Despite the compromising nature of his situation, Norman couldn't help but dully register that the pounding in his heart wasn't from embarrassment alone. Humiliating as it was to strip down to his briefs in front of the man, the fact that he had garnered an aroused response was rather satisfying in its own way. If he could just last a few more rounds, Carter might lose his patience and call the game off – and then both their needs could be taken care of.

Carter withdrew his hand from his face, leaning forward to soak in the sight in front of him more. His eyes cast downward for a moment before shooting back up to catch Norman's eye.

"Having fun after all, FBI?"

Norman ignored the jab, leaning forward to grab the now dwindled deck before them. Perhaps now that they'd made their way to the bottom of the deck, he'd start drawing better combinations? Or, at the least, he should be able to hold out until they had to shuffle the deck again – maybe he could work it out so they just stopped there.

Norman didn't bother masking his smile again as he looked over his hand. A straight – that'd easily put him on top of anything Carter could throw out. Grateful he had managed to last another round, he set the cards down, letting them do the talking. His smile slowly faded away as he spotted the utterly smug expression on Carter's face.

Slowly, Carter began to set down his hand, one card at a time. Norman watched dumbfounded as he looked down to the five cards spread across the table. It was the numbers that were of importance, not the suit – two threes, and three fives. A full house.

Norman practically fell out of his chair in disbelief, just barely managing to stumble to his feet before the furniture fell over. "No fuckin' way!"

Carter merely smirked lightly in response to the scene. "Well?"

"No no no – you're fuckin' cheating, somehow. There's no way – that's a…a…statistical impossibility. You've gotta have a spare deck or somethin'…And…and I'm not-" Norman stammered a moment before taking a deep breath. "No," he finished childishly.

Refusing to deal with the humiliation of stripping completely, he gauged his chances of somehow escaping from the room entirely. Every second lowered his chances significantly - and so, without mapping out an escape route, Norman took a bold shot of maneuvering his way past Carter's chair. The older man's arm shot out quicker than he could foresee. He easily caught Norman around the waist, pulling him effortlessly into his lap. Though still clothed, Norman could easily feel the man's stiff erection through the fabric. Thoughts of struggling left as a warm hand slid into his briefs, taking into hand his own arousal. Norman couldn't help but moan at the sudden stimulation, bucking into Carter's hand for more. Carter smirked again, brushing his lips against the smooth flesh of Norman's neck before establishing a quicker pace with his hand.

As a continuous spew of unconcealed moans began to flow out his mouth, Norman let Carter's free hand slowly slide off his last remaining article of clothing. Despite his initial reluctance to partake in the game, especially given its end results, at the present he couldn't help but feel like he hadn't actually lost.


	4. Pronounced

**And I'm still a lying asshole. No surprises there.**

**Day Four**

**Prompt: Pronounced (Ohohoho.)**

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><p>Under most circumstances, Carter hated the way Norman said his name. He had long since grown accustomed to the little bastard's butchered pronunciation of the English language, but hearing his own name slurred in such a thick Bostonian accent was like a personal attack. The agent could butcher his own name all he wanted, ignore rhotic consonants to his heart's content - but <em>his <em>name was sacred. And it most definitely had an "r" at the end of it.

Sex was not one of those circumstances.

It never failed – push Norman hard enough until his professional composure snapped, and the agent's accent would thicken to the point of incomprehension. In arguments, Carter found this to be a useful strategy, particularly when he knew he wasn't actually right. All he had to do was drop a few personal attacks and Norman would eventually get flustered enough that his speech became impossible to understand, thus rendering Carter the de facto winner - in his eyes, at any rate.

But in bed, watching Norman slowly unravel to the point where the incomprehension set in was one of his favorite parts of the whole affair. The younger man's words would get so slurred that his only methods of communication were sharp, throaty moans and the speed he moved his hips back to match Carter's every thrust. But there were times, as Norman grew closer to climax, that Carter's name would slip out in a strangled cry. Such times never failed to send Carter right over the edge with him. It was just the way Norman said it – pleasured, and so fucking _cute._ It was the only time the sound of his own butchered name drove Carter insane in a good way.

"Come on, Norm," Carter growled in frustration, pushing his body closer the younger man in order to angle himself just right before thrusting back inside him. Jayden ushered out a loud moan in response – yet as arousing and ego boosting as the noise was, it wasn't what Carter needed to hear at the present.

"Not what I want," he managed, the overwhelming tightness of the agent's body finally beginning to exhaust him to his limits. Yet Carter was determined to not let everything end before he got the chance to hear what he so craved. A pair of dilated eyes slowly opened, focusing just enough to allow in confusion. The obvious question was written all over Norman's face as he panted heavily, trying to maintain eye contact.

"Say my name." The strength of the command was spoiled by the strain in Carter's own voice. He accentuated the order with another well-angled thrust, making Norman shudder all over in obvious satisfaction. Sharp nails dug into his back as Jayden's eyes shut again, face screwed up in concentration as the agent tried to focus just long enough to comply. "Mm…B-Blake!"

The sound of his surname pronounced perfectly was frustrating enough to stop the snapping of Carter's hips completely. Norman's eyes snapped open much faster this time, gazing up at him with betrayed frustration. Despite his annoyance, Carter was unable to resist the urge to plow right back in to the man. He thrust the entirety of his length back in, causing Norman to slam his back into the mattress with a heavy moan. Surprisingly strong arms wrapped around him, pulling Carter forward until he was firmly pressed against the young man. Before Carter could protest, Norman gasped and leaned forward – given their close proximity, Carter could feel the agent's cock throb against him as he cried out, "A-Ah! _Cartah!_"

His desire at last sated, Carter was far too satisfied to give the warm fluid hitting his chest and stomach any thought. The sound alone was enough to make his own climax follow shortly after, aided by the further tightening of Norman's body as he continued fervently riding out the orgasm until both men were too exhausted to move.

With a content sigh, Carter shakily pulled out of the agent's body, rolling off the man entirely as he landed on his back unceremoniously. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Norman propping himself onto his elbows. "You weren't makin' funn'ah my accent again, by any chance?"

"Now why would I do a petty thing like that?" Carter asked lazily. A hastily thrown pillow to the face was his only answer.

Carter grinned as he threw the pillow aside, twisting his body to better face the younger man before lunging forward and pinning him down by his forearms. Before Norman could manage anything more than a protested noise, Carter leaned forward and crashed his lips against the mouth that had just thoroughly pleased him.


	5. Blunder

**Just want to take a minute to say thanks for the reviews! I'm terrible about doing that, but rest assured I cherish them. Though I will say this - writing is not effortless for me XD Sometimes it flows fairly naturally, but most of the time I'm like, "I already used that word. I need a synonym." Or "I can't use another semi-colon, that'd make three this paragraph! I have to rearrange the sentence structure." Until I sit back and realize it's been 2 hours and I've written like 4 sentences ;_; Perfectionism is not a virtue. **

**And yes, you are a lying asshole too! BUT I WAIT PATIENTLY. Or at least, I haven't started sacrificing goats and/or babies to the "Please update~" gods just yet. In due time. **

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><p><strong>Day Five<strong>

**Word Prompt: Blunder**

**Warning: Silliness. May or may not be inspired by the fact that I do this shit all the time, despite my claims of adulthood. **

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><p>Unlike a majority of Americans that sluggishly struggled through their Monday morning routine, there was rarely a time more hectic and disorganized for the FBI agent and the police lieutenant.<p>

After spending a weekend at Blake's – or, though slightly less common, Blake spending a weekend at his place –there was always a chain of tasks that had to be accomplished last-minute before either could return for another week's worth of work. Belongings to repack, clothing to gather (and, occasionally, find), and messes to be cleaned – all those factors and more made their mornings rushed, and very high maintenance.

After searching Carter's house up and down, Norman finally accepted that he must have just forgotten to pack his electric razor. Sighing slightly, he made his way to the bathroom and observed the slight stubble he had accumulated over a couple days without shaving. He considered just leaving it; because honestly, it really wasn't _that_ much – but he knew he'd be driving straight from Philadelphia back to work, and such an untamed look was unacceptable by his high standards of professionalism.

Opening the medicine cabinet above the sink, Norman was unsurprised to find a rather worn looking razor on display. One quick search through the bathroom's drawers revealed a fresh pack of razor blades. Norman removed one from its packaging, peaking out the bathroom door to check if Carter was around to observe the theft. In the end, however, his honest nature won out.

"I'm borrowin' your razor!"

The question – well, statement, really, he didn't give a shit what Blake had to say on the matter – was met only with silence as the sound of pots and pans clanking together from across the house stopped for a brief moment.

"Well, now he can't say I didn't tell him," Norman mumbled under his breath to no one in particular. He grimaced slightly as he applied a generous layer of shaving cream onto his face, bringing the sharp new blade up to his neck. Determined to avoid injure, he pulled the razor down one gentle, calculated pass at a time.

A typical series of absentminded thoughts crossed his mind as Norman observed his slow, careful work in the mirror. The idea of growing facial hair was completely foreign to him – not only did it go against his clean, professional image, but he had always figured he just didn't have the face for it. It honestly didn't pain him in the slightest to admit his still-youthful face would look rather stupid with a beard.

His thoughts slowly drifted to Carter's facial hair, recalling with faint bits of embarrassment how surprisingly nice his goatee felt when it brushed against his face and neck - or, on rarer but highly pleasurable occasions, against his thighs. An uncontrollable smile tugged at his lips at the very thought, memories of the last time such an event had occurred still fresh in his mind.

"I'm surprised you even need to shave."

"Ah- OW!" Norman nearly jumped out of his skin, having not even heard Carter entering the bathroom - and unfortunately for him, he did so while the blade was still slowly trailing down his skin. The end result displayed itself in a thin yet surprisingly deep slice across his cheek. The sharp, stinging pain made Norman visibly wince as he observed the cut in the mirror, grimacing at the stream of blood that begun dripping down.

Carter took one good look at the injury before doubling over in a fit of laughter. Norman's eyes narrowed as he irritably grabbed a wad of toilet paper and held it against the wound, allowing the thin tissue to soak up the blood.

"Did you….seriously just…cut yourself shaving?" Carter managed between panted breathes, the lieutenant struggling to regain control of his breathing. For a moment , Norman thought he had succeeded – before the cop busted out into another uncontrollable fit of mocking laughter.

"It's _really_ not that funny," he growled through gritted teeth, his eyes beginning to water in pain.

"No, it _really_ is. I don't think I've cut myself shaving since I was like…fifteen," Carter grinned, still chuckling slightly.

"You snuck up on me! My hand slipped," Norman defended stubbornly, shooting Carter a furious glare through bleary eyes.

"Right, right…" Carter made a move to exit the bathroom entirely, to Norman's relief. He stopped in the doorway, however, and turned to send Norman a horrible grin. "So…is that how you got that scar on your face?"

Carter just managed to shut the bathroom door in time before the shaving cream bottle Norman had thrown made contact with it, crashing against the wood before it fell to the floor. Through the door, Norman could make out the sound of Carter laughing again.


	6. Halloween

**Thanks for all the kind reviews, everyone! I do plan on finishing this to the end, but ehh…Who needs deadlines anyway?**

**I hope everyone had a Happy Halloween. It's my personal favorite holiday of the year, so I had to rush to make sure I at least threw something out for the occasion. Hence:**

**Day 6: Halloween (Cheating? Huh?)**

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><p>Eerie music filled the room as the title screen of a horror film looped continuously, yet the sound was ignored completely by the three inhabitants of Carter Blake's living room. Norman smiled down at the sight of Shaun still garbed in his full Halloween attire. Horribly torn clothing framed his small form, fake trails of blood smeared over the parts of his costume that exposed the skin beneath it. At first glance, the boy's face appeared to be ghastly pale, but further inspection revealed cheeks flushed in an unhealthy, sickish green. He had to admit, Madison outdid herself with the makeup.<p>

"All right, Shaun, let's look through your candy." The statement was followed with Norman tilting the bag upside down so its contents fell onto the floor below. Shaun blinked in both surprise and slight outrage at the sight of his hard-earned candy being treated so carelessly.

"Trust me, what Ethan would do to me if you got cut on a razor blade or somethin' on my watch…it's a lot scarier than 'eneh costume." Indeed, Norman couldn't think of anything more frightening than the idea of Ethan's overprotective instincts directed at him in a fit of fatherly rage.

"He's right, Shaun." Norman's eyebrows shot up in disbelief at the words that had just left _Carter Blake's_ mouth. Before he could interject, the lieutenant continued, "You'd be amazed how many reports we get at the station each year over poisoned candy…" Blake shifted through the generous pile of wrapped sweets on the floor as he picked out several of a specific brand. "_Especially _Twix. I'm gonna hafta confiscate all of 'em."

"Nah, that's nothin' compared to the records the FBI has on contaminated Reese's. I'll let you know if they pass the forensics tests, but I'm doubtful."

Norman grinned shamelessly when recognition dawned on Shaun's face. "Hey – _Hey!" _He took several steps back, dancing out of Shaun's reach as the boy jumped forward in an attempt to snatch the candy back. Carter watched the scene with a grin of his own, unwrapping a piece of his stolen conquest from a safe distance.

"You guys are too _old _for Halloween candy!" Shaun protested as he futilely fought to reach the sweets held just out of his reach.

Norman lowered his arm instantly, moving it down instead to clasp at his heart as if to alleviate the stabbing pain Shaun's words had just inflicted. "Oh, don't cry," Shaun rolled his eyes, taking a handful of sweets before walking past the wounded FBI agent, settling himself onto the couch. "Not before the movie starts, anyway," he added with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah…" Norman switched the lights off, squinting through the darkness as he stumbled his way over to the couch to join the child. A split second passed before he realized they were short one audience member. "Blake, you comin' or what?" he called out, blindly fumbling for the remote to finally start the horror movie.

Behind him, he heard a slight shift before a very reluctant sounding Blake answered. "Uh…yeah. Yeah."

Norman blinked in slight surprise. He had noted that Carter had seemed rather distant all night, something he registered as rather unusual, given most of their evening had been spent with Shaun. A thousand reasons as to why ran through his mind, each less coherent than the last. He filed the thought aside for later once the movie began - the rather cheesy film was a childhood favorite of his. He had picked it out in hopes of not scaring Shaun too much, but with each passing minute of the movie, he suspected his fear was rather misplaced. The closest thing the boy exhibited to fright was the occasional, obligatory jump when someone or something popped out unexpectedly.

Eventually, Norman became so engrossed in the movie that it took several nudges on Shaun's part to snap him out of his concentration. Shifting his neck slightly to regard the boy, he watched Shaun smirk slightly before jerking his head to the right. Norman followed his vision curiously – and had to choke back a laugh when he saw what Shaun was trying to show him.

Behind dark facial hair, Carter's face was even paler than usual, his widened eyes fixed on the screen in well concealed yet still-recognizable fear. His hands were grasping at the fabric of the couch below, knuckles whitening from strain. Norman soaked in the sight of the man who showed no fear in the face of weaponry, violence, and death – now all but cowering in fear at the supernatural.

_I guess you can't punch a ghost._

Even as Norman returned the smirk, he watched the forming of a mischievous smile play at Shaun's lips. "You know…" His soft voice broke the otherwise silent room, making Carter jump – both Norman and Shaun had to stifle a laugh before the boy could continue, "…Dad told me after I got out of the hospital that he thought the police station was haunted…"

"I got that impression too, Shaun," Norman fought hard to keep all traces of heavy amusement out of his voice. "Sometimes…when I was alone in that office, you know…? I'd he'ah…things…"

From the corner of his eye, Norman spotted Carter's lips tightening, not from fear, but annoyance as he picked up on the fact that he was being quite blatantly teased. Shaun noted the hostility, yet it did nothing to deter him picking up from where Norman left off. "Uh-huh…Dad said he'd heard whispering, from the holding cells…"

"That's right…the voices of the falsely accused, seeking vengeance on the ones who wrongly arrested them…"

Norman did his best to maintain a soft, level tone, but once Shaun started cracking up, he lost all control and joined him. It didn't take long before their sides were stabbing from laughter. Carter glared at both of them angrily, shifting so he was facing the two instead of the TV screen. "You know, I don't have a problem takin' you both in so you can test your little _theory_."

A high pitched scream from the TV interrupted their argument. All three of them jumped, but Carter went even further in his startled state to grab the arm of the agent next to him, pulling Norman closer – though Norman wasn't sure if the instinctual movement was to give or receive protection. Either way, he gave the hand clasping his upper arm a highly amused glance before looking up towards its owner. Carter came to his senses almost immediately, pulling his hand back as if it was just horribly burned. Behind him, he heard Shaun crack up before falling back into another spell of giggles.

"Failing that, you two can always sleep outside," Carter snapped, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he redirected his focus back to the horror flick, finding its frightening content more agreeable to watch than the laughing of the two younger males next to him.


	7. Deviated

**Day Six: Deviated **

**I enjoy experimenting with Jayden and Blake's roles in their relationship, and I find their power struggle both enthralling and fun to write. **

**But sometimes I just get in a mood where I want to feed Blake's overly bloated ego at poor Jayden's expense, you know? :D**

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><p>Carter gritted his teeth tightly as to not permit anything more audible than a pleasured hiss to escape past his lips when Norman slowly lowered himself further down onto his cock. Any pleasured noises he had emitted were effectively drowned out by a shaky moan from the agent once he had fully sheathed himself.<p>

His hands grasped and twisted the sheets beneath him as he fought to control himself. In the earlier stages of their relationship, Carter had been rather reluctant to partake in this particular position – seated upright on his bed while Norman rode him for all he was worth. His initial impression was that it was conceding control to the younger man, letting him set the pace instead of the usual reverse. He had long since warmed up to the idea, however; not because his ego had accepted the idea of letting Norman take charge so much as the fact that there was quite a lot of power to found in the position after all.

In missionary, doggie, or other similar such positions, Jayden could at least half-heartedly claim the turn of events weren't his choice. But there was simply no way the profiler could deny that actually _riding_ Carter meant he did more than just let the sex happen – Norman wasn't just getting fucked, but actively fucking himself. Far from feeling objectified, Carter easily found control in the idea that Norman using his body to get himself off. And it certainly didn't hurt that the position allowed for practically every inch of his length to be inside the younger man, walls clenching down almost painfully with each movement downward.

Yet despite all that, the best part by far was watching. As much as Carter loved taking charge (and even now, the urge to push Norman down and fuck him senseless was one he had to consciously fight), it was rather nice to occasionally sit back and observe the cocky little bastard work for him. Particularly the way Norman's mouth would part when his hips grinded down just right, or how sweat would begin to form at his forehead, dripping down past tightly closed eyes – not to mention the hushed, subdued moans the agent fought hard to not let escape, not wanting to show Carter exactly how pleasured he was…

Disappointment rang through Carter's system as he felt Jayden's rather rapid pace begin to slow down. One quick glance at the younger man's strained, exhausted expression as he fought to control his breathing made the feelings morph into twisted satisfaction; evidently, Norman was having difficulty mustering up the stamina to maintain his previously set pace. Basking in the sense of control it implied, Carter smirked as Norman opened half-lidded eyes. "Tired?" he teased, chuckling when the agent shot him a pathetically adorable glare.

"It wouldn't…kill you to move a little," Norman managed between panted breathes. With flushed cheeks, Norman leaned forward, nuzzling his face into Carter's neck, each hot breath hitting the exposed flesh. Carter conceded to the physical contact, even allowing Norman to wrap his arms around his shoulders for leverage as the young man began rotating his hips once more.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt the show," he grinned, shifting back until his back hit against the bedframe. He relaxed his head against the wooden structure, thoroughly enjoying himself as he watched Norman's already reddened face heat up even further before he stopped moving entirely.

In the slight pause, Carter began preparing counters for the anticipated angry retort. He was expecting a series of denials, possibly even for the agent to get off him entirely, furiously exiting the room. What he wasn't expecting was for Norman to shift slightly on top of him, a slight moan escaping his lips before he mumbled almost inaudibly, "…Please?"

Carter considered it a miracle he didn't blow his load right then and there upon hearing the desperate little plea from such an ordinarily prideful man. It took self-control he honestly didn't think he had to not comply with the request immediately. He forced himself to notthrust upward like they both desperately desired, instead sliding a hand behind Norman's head, yanking his head back by his hair until their eyes met. Norman immediately averted his in shame, the verbal slip up catching up with him as humiliation set in.

"I didn't catch that?" Carter grinned horribly through the blatant lie. He thrust his hips forward when he saw a small amount of stubbornness flick cross Norman's features, giving the younger man a small taste of exactly what he was missing out on with every passing second. Carter's hands quickly shot down to grasp Norman's waist, holding him in place as he slowly slid his way out. The grin widened as he felt Norman's ass tighten around him futilely, the disappointed moan echoing in the bedroom.

Tortured, frustrated, and flat out _cute _eyes met Carter's again. Norman bit down on his lower lip for a moment, the simple act making Carter's already strained self-control dwindle further. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when Norman shivered against him slightly, hips wiggling fruitlessly in his grip before he finally shelved his pride. "…Please," he repeated shamefully, desperation even more evident than before.

Carter didn't waste a single second to even revel in the victory before he released Norman's hips and thrust forward. Norman shoved his hips down to meet him, back arching into the movement. It consequentially drove Norman's body closer to his own – and Carter didn't fight the urge to press the younger man closer still, wrapping his arms around Jayden's back to pull him into a firm embrace. Short nails dug into Carter's upper back and shoulders as Norman tightened his own grip in response, clinging to him desperately for leverage as their bodies continued to writhe against each other.

Carter's hands slowly began snaking down the agent's back, the fingertips on one hand trailing up and down Norman's spine as the other slid down to his ass. He gave a small, satisfied smirk at the feel of the soft piece of flesh pressed against his palm. It transformed into a full-fledged grin as he felt Norman press into the grope, hips shaking downward all the while with increased speed and force. With each met stroke, he could feel Norman tightening around his cock, thoroughly massaging the organ to his complete satisfaction.

The lieutenant pulled back from their tight embrace for a moment to catch a glimpse of Norman's face. His eyes were once more clenched shut with strain, mouth hung slightly agape to permit each panted breath to escape without hindrance. Carter pulled back the hand previously caressing the agent's back, resting it instead on Norman's shoulder before sliding it down his slender frame. With a rather amused exhale, he closed the small distance he had created between them, pressing his face against Norman's. "Since you're bein' so good…" he teased softly against the agent's ear. Before Norman could respond to the jibe about his undeniable submission, Carter slid his hand down further until it softly brushed against Norman's fully erect cock. Blindly, he took it in hand and began to establish a rhythm of stroking that matched his thrusts.

Norman moaned loudly in response, bucking into Carter's hand before sinking his hips down to impale himself onto his dick. Carter's laugh morphed into a moan of his own halfway when Norman tried to raise his hips to begin the process again only to shiver and lose strength, falling back onto the erect organ again. It only took a few more strokes after that before Norman came hard into his hand. Carter smiled in satisfaction before removing his now-sticky hand from the softening member, placing it instead on Norman's side for leverage as he refocused on thrusting inside the young man's tight channel.

"Keep movin'," he ordered quietly, determined to get his own release. If Norman hadn't complied wordlessly with the demand, Carter would've questioned if he had even heard him – his eyes were so dazed and unfocused, he was surprised Norman's brain managed to register the order in its still-recovering state. Seeing Jayden continue to work for him even after his own completion was more than his already strained body could take – frankly, he was amazed he managed to last this long, given how aroused he was. Carter let Norman ride out the last few moments for him before his cock began to throb, hot liquid shooting inside the younger man who stifled a pleasured gasp in response. He could only pant weakly as he watched Norman slowly slide off him, unhooking the arms strung around his shoulders. His strength quickly failed him, making Norman lose his balance as he fell against Carter's body.

Carter caught him easily despite his own exhaustion. He kept his arms wrapped around the agent's slender form, letting his back slide off the bed frame and into the mattress below. As their breathing slowly leveled out, Carter felt Norman shift on top of him – more in an attempt to get comfortable than to escape his grasp, evidenced when Norman nuzzled his face into Carter's chest sleepily. The act made his chest tighten almost painfully as he silently admired the soft weight of the younger man in his arms. The submission he'd just witnessed spurred masculine desires throughout his system, making him subconsciously pull Norman even closer as a series of possessive thoughts ran through his head. The sudden tightening of his grip made the agent jump slightly before he attempted to wiggle himself out from the embrace.

"Cartah – lemme go," Norman managed, accent thickening from sheer exhaustion mixed with embarrassment. Carter hugged the agent closer again in response, chuckling slightly at the almost girlish squeak of discomfort that followed.

"Say 'please'."


	8. Childish

**Prompt: Childish**

**As the title implies, this turned out to be very immature and fluffy. **

**I'm playing around with how I want to present Norman and Blake's childhood at the moment, but I'm going to save main ideas for my actual story. Little allusions just help me form the bigger picture for later. I don't think there's any room for doubt that Blake must have had an unbelievably shitty childhood – but I can see him being the kid that tried to make the most of it, even if he often didn't succeed. *stupidly positive person* **

**Anyway, this is one act I'm confident I'll still be doing when I'm Carter's age. I was quite upset to learn this is apparently not socially acceptable anymore. Not that it stops me. **

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><p>For what must have been the hundredth time, Carter twisted his neck back to scan the connected kitchen and living room of Norman's house to make sure its owner wasn't nearby. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in this particular act. Part of him didn't give a shit – because really, it wasn't as if he had to answer to the little bastard for <em>anything – <em>but a larger part of him didn't want Norman to see the ridiculously immature thing he was about to do.

With one last hasty glance behind him, Carter opened the refrigerator door and quickly scanned its contents, searching for the object that had been driving him insane since he first saw it. According to Norman – not that he had inquired about the food item, that would have given his interest away – it was a leftover from his contribution to a recent party at work. Norman was probably just going to throw it away…and even if he didn't, it's not like he'd notice if any of it had been taken…

Carter knew he wouldn't have another opportunity like this before he left the agent's home; so without further weighing of the consequences, he grabbed the spray can of whipped cream and shaked it vigorously, looking over his shoulder all the while to make sure the coast was clear. Once he was confident he was safe, Carter removed the cap and turned the aerosol can upright, pressing against the nozzle to spray the processed bunch of chemicals that claimed some sort of semblance to a dairy product into his mouth.

Once the white cream hit his tongue, he was a little disappointed to find the product wasn't as good as he remembered. Memories of banding together with his brothers to steal the dessert topping from their kitchen flashed through his head, the victory of when they had succeeded almost as sweet as the whipped cream itself. The small grin the memories had brought faded slightly when he recalled what had happened when his father had actually caught them in the act once– but he shoved the thought aside as he tilted the can back for more, the fizzing sound of the cream being dispelled drowning out the unpleasant thought.

The second dose tasted even better than the first; Carter smiled again, rolling the almost-liquid around in his mouth with his tongue as his brain simultaneously flashed more pleasant images of his childhood again. It'd been a little while since he'd called up his brothers…Making a mental note to do so once he returned to Philadelphia, Carter tilted the can back for more.

"And how old are we turnin' this year?" came a highly amused voice from behind him. Carter gave a startled cough, spitting out a generous amount of the cream as he did so. Turning around, he found himself face to face with an FBI agent wearing an unprecedentedly large, condescending grin. Other than a towel draped around his waist, that was the only thing Norman was wearing – but he tried to not let his mind linger on that thought too much as he quickly analyzed the situation in search of a valid excuse. Judging by the fact that the aerosol can was still in his hand – and the bits of cream lingering on his beard – he knew there was no way this looked like anything other than exactly what it was.

"So let's forget how unhygienic that is for a minute…" Norman took a cautious step background, broad grin unaffected even as Carter took a defensive stance, "…and 'lemme just comment how_ gay_ that looked." Bare forearms crossed together as Norman titled his head to the side, still grinning like a jackass. It didn't take long for Carter's brain to register the insult – he had just shaken a phallic object until it dispelled white cream…into his mouth…

Norman danced out of his reach just in time as Carter lunched forward, hand grasping only thin air instead of where Norman's arm had been just seconds ago. Carter heard a small laugh before the agent retreated out of sight. Given the surprisingly small size of the bureaucrat's house, however, it didn't take long before Carter caught up with him in the next room, capturing him in a corner before he pinned his back against the wall.

To his annoyance, Norman didn't appear particularly fazed about the defeat – instead, the younger man continued to smile as he wiggled his arms out from underneath Carter's grasp, hands shooting out to grasp the sides of Carter's face as he pulled him into a quick kiss. Before Carter could act in either reciprocation or retaliation, Norman broke off the physical contact by leaning his head back. Still taken aback by the abruptness of the act, Carter just watched in curiosity that only bordered slightly on arousal as the agent licked a small amount of white cream off his lips, his expression thoughtful.

"Mm…Not bad. Actually."

Carter snorted slightly at the agreement. He jerked his head away to escape from Norman's hands, removing his own from against the wall. An idea came to mind as the still-cold can in his hand brushed against his warm flesh – he brought the frigid metal against the small of Jayden's back, pressing it firmly against the body he knew was ever so sensitive to the cold. As expected, Norman jumped in shock and discomfort, shivering against his body for warmth. Carter smirked lightly, a much more asshole-ish idea popping into his brain as he removed the can from his back and brought it up to his head instead. Without missing a beat, Carter pressed against the nozzle so its contents sprayed all over the younger man's freshly washed face.

"Aw, fuck you, Blake! I just showered!" It was Carter's turn to grin widely as Norman sputtered, throwing an arm up to shield his face. Struggling in his grasp, he used the other arm to try and swat the can away, eventually succeeding after a few blind swipes. Carter took the chance to press his own lips against the agent's this time, tasting the cream against the man's slightly chapped lips all the while. He forcefully deepened the kiss until Norman reluctantly parted his mouth open, allowing Carter to force his tongue inside.

He brought his now freed hands up, cupping Norman's face firmly before using his weight to push his back even further into the wall. His fingers began to absently stroke Norman's face, thumbs brushing underneath his cheekbones, making Norman open his mouth further in response. It didn't take long before the act turned into one more driven out of lust than spite, the can of whipped cream lying forgotten on the floor by their feet.


	9. Smack

**Prompt: Smack**

**These prompts prove that God approves of Blake/Jayden and wants me to write more of it. Or, at least, random word generators do. Upon further reflection, God probably doesn't.**

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><p>A thin beam of sunlight peaked through the blinds of the bedroom window. The sudden warmth and light made Carter Blake groan audibly in discomfort. He opened his eyes, squinting in irritation as the bright light made his already aching head throb further still. Memories of last night's activities slowly began flowing back into his brain, though they were blurred and lacked detail.<p>

It took several silent moments before his brain registered that the side of his face was rather damp. Carter lifted his head with a slight moan, realizing the liquid matting his cheek was none other than drool – and the surface he'd just lifted his face from wasn't a pillow, but the naked stomach of a passed out FBI agent. Carter wiped the slobber off his face irritably, but found himself unable to resist the urge to plop himself back against the warm, soft flesh beneath him. He shifted his head against Norman's torso, trying to readjust himself into a comfortable position again. Underneath him, he felt Norman shift slightly, consciousness returning to the younger man just as slowly.

The ringing of a doorbell echoed throughout the house, not once, but twice. Both men groaned as the sound rattled in their recovering brains. Carter reluctantly raised his head off Norman again, shifting into something that resembled an upright position, Norman following suit with more coordination.

" 'Got it…" the agent mumbled tiredly as he scooted off the bed. Carter watched sleepily as the agent, clothed only in briefs, slipped on one of the pairs of pants lying haphazardly on the floor. He grabbed a shirt draped similarly next to it, pulling it on as he left the room entirely.

Carter adjusted himself so he was lying on his back, throwing an arm up lazily to block out the sunlight. The continuous pounding of his head served as a painful reminder that he really needed to start watching his alcohol intake if he wanted to make it into his fifties. Though far from an alcoholic, he found the substance an effective way of unwinding after a long, stressful week at the precinct. His partaking in the drug had increased ever since Norman had come around. Carter found the agent almost tolerable once he had a few beers in him, his normally uptight nature becoming less guarded with every drink.

Last night had been a little excessive, however – evidenced by the fact that he still had absolutely no idea how they'd gotten home. He had vague recollections of going to a draft house to see a movie…And it had turned out the movie was god awful, so he talked Jayden into making it into a drinking game instead, taking shots at every instance of terrible acting…which didn't last long before he managed to get them kicked out of the theater. The liquor had really started to kick in after that, the rest of the evening still a complete blur.

The sound of footsteps rang through his skull painfully, driving away his attempts to recall the rest of the evening. Norman at least had the courtesy to leave the bedroom light off as he sluggishly stumbled through the doorway, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind him before approaching the bed. Carter watched only half-interested as Norman struggled with the task of removing the pants he had hastily thrown on, his still groggy state struggling with the task. He smirked slightly when Jayden nearly fell over before steading himself against the wall with his back facing Carter, taking the safer approach in removing the article of clothing instead by bending forward to reach the bottom of his pant leg.

Carter was suddenly quite glad that Jayden wasn't facing him – it made him unable to notice the fact that he was now fully seated upright and quite openly staring at his ass. He was still wearing a pair of briefs under the pants, but the white cloth left little room for imagination as to what was underneath – though, perhaps that was only because Carter already knew from experience. It was one aspect of the kid's body he could honestly say he had no real shame in admitting he enjoyed – soft, firm, but still easy and enjoyable to grab onto. Carter had a better idea on what he should do with it now, however.

Scooting towards the edge of the bed where Norman still stood, Carter raised a calloused hand – and before he could rethink the consequences of the pending action, swung it against the soft piece of flesh so nicely put on display in front of him.

"_Ow!_"

Norman whirled around to face him, nearly falling over again in the process. "You – who the hell said you could - did you just-" he sputtered off, his outrage preventing his tongue from properly formulating an objection to what had just happened. "Did you seriously just slap my ass?"

Carter brought the hand up to his face to stifle a yawn, raising a single eyebrow in a way that said without words, "Yeah, so?" The hand hid his grin when he heard a small growl rise in Norman's throat as he rubbed the undoubtedly stinging flesh irritably. Before Norman could object further to the blatantly degrading act, Carter verbalized his response. "I don't need permission to touch what's mine."

Indignation painted the younger man's face as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Last time I checked, _Blake_, my _ass_ was still definitely a part of _my _body."

Carter removed the hand cupping his face, gesturing with it slightly as he forced a frustrated sigh. With an air of someone explaining a simple idea to a slow learner, he calmly stated, "Right. As I said – mine."

He had to give himself credit for how smoothly he had delivered the line, without a trace of the heavy amusement he was currently feeling. Fighting back a smile was even harder as he observed Norman's reaction to the words, watching him finally kick the last of the pants off his legs with a face burnt red from both embarrassment and anger before he seated himself on the edge of the bed. Carter's gaze flicked from Norman's face, glancing down almost lazily until something caught his attention completely and utterly, making a breath hitch in his throat. He'd been so caught up in staring at his ass that he'd neglected to notice what made up his top half– and that 'something' made maintaining a straight face completely impossible.

"What?" Norman asked in spite of himself, annoyance still thick in his voice. He furrowed his brows at Carter's lack of a response, following his gaze downward to the shirt he had thrown on. In his half-awake state, he hadn't grabbed his white undershirt from the night before like he'd thought; but rather, one of Carter's signature dark blue work shirts. Norman jumped slightly as the realization of what he was wearing set in, his hands shooting up to clumsily unbutton the top button. Carter quickly reached out to capture his wrists, pulling Norman closer to him all the while.

Several of the buttons were either undone entirely or led through the wrong loop, giving the shirt a lopsided, sloppy appearance. While it fit snugly on Carter's own, more muscular frame, it hung loose over Norman's chest and shoulders. Their difference in height made the sleeves run too short, but even despite that fact it still managed to look far too big on him. Carter himself had to tuck the shirt in to keep it looking decently professional – without pants to do so, it extended all the way down past Norman's hips. Not only was it ill-suited in size, but the dark blue did nothing to compliment Norman's already ghostly complexion, making him look even paler than usual. But it wasn't how poor of a fit the shirt was on the younger man that caught Blake's attention – it was the fact that it was _his_ shirt draped around the agent's form, _his _clothes being worn by the uptight man at such an early, unguarded hour. A rush of pride surged through the lieutenant's system, the grin on his face as wide as it could get as he continued soaking in the image in front of him. "Not mine, Norm? You sure about that?"

The throbbing ache in his skull slowly vanished as his mind was given a new purpose. Ignoring Norman's heightening protests, he managed to push him back into the mattress while maintaining a firm grip on his wrists. Seeking to silence the furious objections of the man beneath him, he pressed their lips together while blindly transferring a wrist against the other so he could grip them both in one hand, freeing the other to slide down the agent's clothed body. For a moment he just let his hand brush against the soft flesh between Norman's hips and thigh before hooking a thumb into his white briefs and slowly pulling them down.

The shirt, however, would be staying on.


	10. Bound

**Prompt: Bound**

1. under a legal or moral obligation: _He is bound by the terms ofthe contract._

2. destined; sure; certain: _It is bound to happen._

3._** tied; **__**in **__**bonds: **__**a **__**bound **__**prisoner.**_

**:D**

**(Added warning – rimming. And bondage. Shockingly enough.)**

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><p>Norman listened closely to each breath Carter took, each subsequent release more uncontrolled and shaky than the last. Carter was, at times, a hard man to read – it made gauging his limits difficult, making Norman never entirely certain how close he was to the edge. He had made it his personal goal for the evening to test every one of those limits, and he had to admit he'd done a pretty damn good job so far. Slowly, he withdrew his tongue from the warm, tight cavity of the man's ass, holding back a chuckle when he felt the tight ring of muscle clamp up in a vain effort to keep him inside.<p>

From somewhere above him, he heard Carter growl in response, followed by the noise of metal clanking against metal. Norman pulled away from Carter's body entirely, leaning his head back to take in the sight before him. It had taken ages and every psychological tactic he knew, but his resilience had paid off – Carter now sat in front of him, blindfolded by Norman's tie with his legs spread to allow him better access to his body. His arms were twisted above him, handcuffed to the metal frame of his bedpost; despite how uncomfortable it looked, Norman felt little sympathy. It was the cop's own fault for twisting his arms into such an awkward position – thought he had to admit he held some responsibility for pushing the man so far.

As much raw satisfaction as he got from turning the rough cop practically into putty under his ministrations, denying him said physical indulgence was even more satisfying. Norman never truly had the opportunity to fully appreciate said denial and its effects on the prideful man – their differences in physical strength made such attempts impossible without immediate response in the form of a firm hand on the back of his head or an iron grip on his hips.

Now, however, the most Carter could do was writhe his hands about in his own handcuffs, all his strength effectively restrained by the metal devices biting into his wrists. The sight alone had long since made Norman painfully hard, but he did his best to ignore that fact – he wanted this little exercise to be about Carter. His own needs could be taken care of after he successfully pushed Carter to the point where he actually got the vain, aggressive officer to beg him for more.

The thought made him smile slightly as he looked back up at the lieutenant's face. He almost wished he hadn't gone with the idea of the blindfold; he rather missed the sight of the man's dark blue eyes, undoubtedly heating up in frustration beneath the cloth. "Somethin' wrong, Cartah?" Norman asked, fighting to keep most of his amusement out of his voice.

"You mean other than the fact that you're a fuckin' cocktease?" Norman couldn't hold back a laugh at the comment, watching the cop's mouth tighten angrily in response. The words were perfect, but what was more satisfying was the way they were spoken. Carter's voice sounded ridiculously strained, frustration present in the words; but not nearly as strongly as the desperation. Though far from a plea, Norman decided to reward the telling statement by leaning forward and slowly tracing the rim of the man's opening again with his tongue, smiling internally when he heard Carter gasp and shift his hips forward.

Norman's hands made their way to the lieutenant's waist, grabbing his sides firmly for leverage so he could push his tongue back inside the older man's ass. The sound of the handcuffs rattling against the bedframe made him chuckle slightly, sending a small vibration from his tongue into the man's body, causing Carter to tense up again and relinquish a soft moan. Norman's grip on his hips tightened at the noise, and he shifted his own hips into the mattress in an attempt to alleviate the growing pressure in his groin. He was starting to wonder who was going to win this game of self-control – himself, or Carter.

He was beginning to doubt his likelihood of success at this rate. Without pulling his face back, Norman ran a hand slowly away from Carter's side, tracing the man's hardened flesh with his fingertips. He felt the rough cop shudder slightly from the soft touch, tensing even further as his fingers slowly made their way to the man's neglected arousal. Blindly, he let his fingertips caress the painfully hard length, laughing softly again when the organ twitched under his touch. The sudden stimulation from both areas of Carter's body made him moan again in response, the sound much louder than before.

"Jesus – _fuck_…Norm…" Carter managed between panted breathes, thrusting his hips up as much as he could under Norman's grip in an attempt to buck into his hand. His utter lack of success with the act made him groan slightly in frustration.

Despite everything, Norman couldn't help but share that exact frustration. Hearing the cop's nickname for him panted out so pleasurably made his cock throb painfully. He knew there was one option remaining that would solve both his desire to dominate the man before him and relieve his own needs – and he knew he wouldn't get another chance like this in ages, as he rarely managed to coerce Carter into relinquishing his control – but as pleasurable as fucking the belligerent lieutenant into ecstasy sounded, Norman's caring nature was beginning to rear its head. It wouldn't be right – Carter had placed quite a lot of trust in him just by letting himself be tied up, and such an act would be betraying that trust.

Norman tried in vain to return his attention back into pleasuring the man before him, thrusting his tongue further into his ass despite fervent wishes that it was his cock instead. He knew if he withdrew his tongue now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from asking Carter if he could. The thought nearly made him growl in frustration – he knew full well that if the situations were reversed, he'd already be halfway fucked to oblivion at this point. And the thought of Blake asking him for permission first? Utterly laughable. But he couldn't help it – he didn't want to take advantage of Carter, no matter how badly the man needed to be humbled.

The small growl escaped from his throat after all, sending another pleasurable vibration throughout Carter's body. The shuddering gasp that followed drew a soft moan out of Norman's own lips before he could stop it; yet if Carter noticed it, he gave no sign of it. He was about to thrust his tongue further in before he felt Carter jerk his hips back in response, pulling the sopping wet muscle out of his body entirely. Norman furrowed his brows in surprise, glancing up to Carter's face to get an indication for what had just happened. Still panting from the sudden lack of stimulation, Norman watched as Carter twisted his hands together in frustration before seemingly steeling himself. Norman smiled in anticipation, waiting for the words about to come – pleas for him to blow him, begging for some sort of release –

"Jesus fuckin' Christ Norm, stop being a bitch and fuck me!"

Norman stifled a cough of pure and utter surprise, his mind racing to catch up with the words. It wasn't the plea he'd be working so hard to pry from the officer's vulgar mouth, far from it – it was a_ demand, _the nature of which he hadn't anticipated in the slightest_. _But the aching need in his lower body overrode all desires to continue pushing the man further; he was almost too scared to say anything in fear of accidentally changing the dominant male's mind, but he just couldn't stop himself from commenting, "You want me to fuck you, Cartah?"

The reaction on Carter's face was almost worth jeopardizing the chance to fuck him. Norman watched in twisted satisfaction and amusement as the skin not covered by the blindfold flared red in embarrassment, his lips tightening further before biting his lower lip. "I'm not gonna ask you again."

Norman gave a small snort of both amusement and irritation at the words. He wanted to drag out the wait, make him ask in a properly submissive tone, rub in Carter's face that he'd managed to push him to the point where he wanted to be fucked – do _something_ to dish back the feelings of embarrassment and subjugation that Norman himself was constantly on the receiving end of from the older man – but every second of teasing would be another second where his cock would be bitterly neglected. He got enough of that when Carter was in charge; now that he was in control, there was no need to repeat the anguish.

Without a second's hesitation, Norman reached down to his own cock and began spreading the liberal amount of precum that had been coating the head evenly across the organ before pressing the tip against Carter's entrance. Norman felt a rush of both excitement and concern when Carter visibly stiffened – concern won out as he leaned closer, pressing the side of his smooth face against Carter's far more gruff one, the silk of his own tie flushing nicely against his heated face. "Relax, Cartah," he instructed quietly. He bit back a short laugh as he watched a stubborn expression flick across Carter's blindfolded face even as his body obeyed the order. Unable to wait a second longer, he pressed the tip of his cock inside.

The sheer tightness of the older man's body made it impossible for Norman to thrust the entirety of his length into Carter's body in one movement. It took several short thrusts before he managed to fully sheathe himself, walls clenching tightly around his dick almost painfully. Moving in and out was just as difficult, but the way Carter harshly gasped as his tight heat embraced his cock was enough to drive Norman insane despite the slow speed. Norman gritted his teeth tightly together, pushing his body closer to Carter's as he tried to adjust himself into an angle that made movement easier.

Much to the relief of his already strained body, it didn't take long for him to locate the sensitive spot inside the older man with the new position – the excessive teasing he'd put the lieutenant through had swelled the organ enough that it was hard _not _to brush against it now. Norman thrust forward with more ease as Carter loosened his body further, making sure to keep the angle that was allowing him to effectively hit the man's prostate. Every moan ushered out from the violent cop was cherished like a hard earned trophy by the profiler, feeding his ego and bringing him closer by the second to reaching his peak.

Norman nuzzled his face wantonly against Carter's as he thrusted forward again, thoroughly enjoying both the feel of his tight body and the prickly facial hair brushing against his cheek. The warm feel of Carter's bated breath began hitting the back of his neck, serving as an indicator that he wasn't the only one close to the edge. The thought that Blake was getting off on him taking charge was enough for Norman to lose all sense of self-control, his thrusts losing all sense of rhythm and coordination in place for a wild snapping of his hips, each stroke applying a great deal of pressure on the other man's prostate. Somewhere in the back of his brain he noted with satisfaction Carter's equally unfocused attempts to match the movements - before he felt the shudders of the man underneath him, the rattling of the handcuffs echoing throughout the bedroom before a warm fluid hit Norman's stomach. Norman's attention was too closely held by the further tightening of Carter's body as he came to focus on the thought that he'd managed to outlast the man in their latest game of domination and submission. A few quick strokes later, and the pleasurable sensations overwhelmed his body completely – Norman pressed his face further down into Carter's neck as he came inside the man, muffling his sharp cry against the worn skin.

Norman's vision blurred in and out as he shakily pulled out and all but collapsed on Carter's chest. He tried to keep his breathing under control, out of pure desire to hear the cop's own panted breathes. Once they both managed to get their breathing under control, Norman leaned forward and clumsily untied the tie wrapped around the lieutenant's face, unable to fight a grin from taking his face as their eyes met. He decided to add insult to the injury, pressing his lips against Carter's almost lazily. For a few short seconds, Carter reluctantly complied – before jerking his face away furiously, small drops of spit sputtering past his lips. "Don't fuckin' kiss me, think of where that fuckin' mouth of yours has been!"

The grin grew uncontrollably as Norman cupped the man's face with both hands and began sloppily planting kisses all over it despite Carter's angry protests. Before he could make contact with his lips again, Carter managed to jerk his head out of his grasps. "Next time you're not gonna be able to walk right for a week," he managed, voice thick with irritation.

Norman regarded the still-bound police lieutenant lazily, gaze flickering from the semen matting his thickly haired chest to the man's belligerent glare, face still flushed from physical exertion and embarrassment. He met the glare with minimal traces of nervousness before breaking eye contact, reaching over to his night stand to grab the key to the handcuffs. He threw the little metal device keeping Carter from freedom from hand to hand, smirking slightly when he noticed Carter's eyes following each movement. "What makes'yah think you'll be free for next time?"'

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><p><strong>(JaydenBlake why are you so hard to write ;_;)**


	11. Favor

**I know. I'm terrible. Long story short, I got promoted in November. "Petty Officer" is like, Latin for "Uncle Sam's Bitch" (true story, look it up). **

**I WILL TRY TO UPDATE MORE THOUGH. Because I want to. You guys keep posting awesome shit and I don't want to be all take and no give D: **

**That being said, I'm in, like, a fluff rut. I CAN'T STOP. Next time I'm gonna blare angry, violent music in the background while I'm writing. THE NEXT UPDATE WILL MANLY, IN-CHARACTER HATE SEX. JUST YOU WAIT*.**

**(PS – happy (….prooooobably belated) birthday to beautysupreme :D)**

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><p><strong>Prompt: Favor<strong>

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><p>All abilities to form cognitive thoughts vanished when he felt Carter's hand grasp his shoulder. The grip started out firm, though more to establish physical contact than out of forcefulness – evidenced when it slowly loosened and became almost gentle. The sudden acknowledgement and uncharacteristically affectionate gesture made the profiler's stomach flutter, and before he could subdue it, Norman moaned over the cock in his mouth, barely suppressing a shudder throughout his entire body.<p>

The moan sent a pleasurable vibration throughout the already sensitive organ, and he heard Carter release a shaky gasp that quickly morphed into a short laugh. Norman reflexively looked up from his spot on the floor in front of the cop's bed, locking eyes with the man as a result. He quickly brought his gaze back down, catching a glimpse of Carter grinning down at him before he gave his grip an encouraging squeeze, "Glad I'm not the only one havin' fun here."

Embarrassment overwhelmed his system at the words, making his face burn red. Outrage followed immediately after, and he pulled back away from cop, removing his mouth from the man entirely all the while. An almost whimper from above him escaped past the lieutenant's lips; despite his irritation, Norman watched in interest as Carter jumped slightly from the sudden withdrawal of physical contact.

"Hey, hey, don't stop-" The words were out of the normally belligerent cop's mouth before he could keep the plea out of his voice. After a moment's pause – with Norman feeling little desire to comply with the man's words – the hand on his shoulder slowly snaked across his flesh to the back of his neck, fingers gently stroking the skin there almost apologetically. Another full-body tremor ran through Norman's body in response, and he shifted willingly back into the touch, "C'mon, I was just teasing…"

With the passing of a sigh, Norman glanced back up at the officer seated at the edge of his bed. Dark blue eyes met his – and there did indeed seem to be a glint of desperation behind them. The burning in his cheeks remained as Carter's fingers continued to glide up and down his neck, spurring him to pick up where he left off despite his doubts of the sincerity behind the words. Suppressing another sigh, Norman scooted his knees forward to close the small distance he'd created between them, leaning forward to loosely wrap his lips around the head of Carter's cock once more, tasting the precum that had built up in their brief lapse of connection.

An exhale full of relief from above followed immediately after, combined with a sudden tugging at the top of his scalp. Closing his eyes, Norman silently took in the contrasting feel of the stroking at the back of his neck and the increasingly tighter grip of his hair. He rewarded the new bit of acknowledgement by tightening his own embrace on the man's cock, hollowing out his cheeks as he took more of the lieutenant in. Norman winced when Carter bucked his hips in response, the back of his throat being lightly hit, "Ahhh, fuck…that's it, Norm…"

The fluttering in his stomach returned upon hearing the cop's nickname for him slip out pleasurably, his cheeks now flushing from accomplishment in place of humiliation. It was a personal weakness of his, he had to admit – Norman knew that Carter got sort of some vindictive pleasure at hearing him say his name during sex, and the FBI agent hated to admit he shared that particular fetish. Under normal circumstances, the nickname annoyed him; after all, it carried with it the stigma from when the homicide detective had first started using it – when Carter had destroyed all hopes of a professional partnership by assigning him an overly familiar nickname despite their technical differences in rank.

Now, however, the informality practically had him swooning. It served as proof that he'd successfully managed to chisel his way through the cold-hearted lieutenant's icy exterior. Even now, he hadn't demanded that Norman continue the blowjob, or simply shove himself back in like the agent had half-expected. Instead, he had more or less asked – and by Blake's standards, that was practically begging.

It was that thought that spurred the agent on as he continued to pleasure the man before him, running his tongue along the underside of his cock as he sucked at the rest with increasing strength, doing his best to bob his head in time with the movements of Carter's hips. The escalating speed and lack of rhythm served as an indicator that his job was almost over.

Norman opened his eyes, rather relieved to find Carter's own to be tightly closed, contrasting with his mouth which had opened partially to allow a series of increasingly louder pants to escape from it. To his slight disappointment, the fingers lightly rubbing the back of his neck stopped. Seconds later, the hand instead gripped the skin there tightly for leverage as he felt his head be pushed forward. Norman tried his best to subdue his gag-reflex when he felt Carter hit the back of his throat once more, the rather painful sensation followed by warm liquid pooling into his mouth. He very nearly choked at the overflowing feeling, pulling away as coughed up some of the man's fluids before audibly swallowing the rest.

Massaging his throat, Norman pointedly looked away in an attempt to avoid eye contact with the man in front of him. Shame crept into his system, not only at the fact that he'd given in to the cop again, but also at the knowledge that he was fully hard because of it. The throbbing between his legs was impossible to ignore, but Norman did his best to pretend his aching erection didn't exist nonetheless; he didn't exactly want to jack off right in front of Carter after his earlier jackass remark. He shifted his weight, sitting on his knees in hopes that the pressure would help alleviate his arousal. It proved to be as fruitless as he'd imagined, instead only increasing the pulsating feeling surging from his crotch.

Norman suppressed a sigh as he placed his hands onto his knees, pushing himself up into a standing position before turning around. Thoughts swam absently through his head about heading to the shower, figuring he could take care of his erection there, away from prying eyes while he simultaneously cleaned himself off.

The thoughts were erased from his head as he heard a gruff voice from behind him, "Oh, c'mere, kid…" Before Norman could respond, he felt a pair of rough hands grasp his waist from behind, pulling him backwards toward the lieutenant. Heat rushed to his face as he fell back onto the bed and into the older man's lap. Without wasting any time, the hands at his sides bunched up his shirt before pulling the fabric up quickly, yanking the clothes off in one swift motion.

Rather startled, Norman attempted to shift away while he tried to formulate a response, "Cartuh! What're you-" He was interrupted by one of Carter's arms wrapping around his sides, pushing him so his back flushed against the man's chest. Norman bit back his objections when he felt the rather copious amount of hair there brush against his now bare back.

A breath hitched in his throat when he felt the other hand previously on his waist slowly slide down and graze against his restrained erection. Blake let out a small exhale of amusement before pressing his face into the crook of his neck, his lips brushing against the flesh there. He slowly trailed his lips up the agent's neck, the coarse hair on his face making Norman shudder into the touch. Drawing his face back slightly, he blindly began undoing the younger man's pants before answering the unfinished question, "Returning the favor…what's it look like?"

Norman swallowed at the words, the gesture quite conspicuous given the cop's close proximity to his throat, "You don't hafta-" He broke off again as Carter returned his lips to his neck, sucking at the sensitive, delicate flesh in a way that was starting to drive him crazy. It was followed by the man's calloused hand slipping into his undone pants, past his briefs until it was finally making contact with his erection. A small moan of approval slipped past his lips, and he swore he felt Blake's own curl up against his neck into a smirk. His body went reflexively went tense at the thought until Carter briefly pulled his lips away, "Relax."

Norman felt himself nodding at the command absently as he tried to shift the clothes loosely clinging to his hips further down to give Carter easier access to his body. Carter complied wordlessly with the unspoken request, using his free hand to simultaneously pull down his pants and briefs until they clung instead around his knees. Carter then returned his attention to slowly sliding a crooked finger up and down his length, the slight stimulation nonetheless enough to make Norman hold his breath. He suppressed another shiver, his hands brushing past Carter's outer thighs as he moved to grasp the satin sheets below them. Blake made no move to increase the stimulation against his cock, however, and it was beginning to drive him insane.

"Blaake…" Norman nearly blushed when he heard his own voice – it came off as more of a whine than anything else. He bit his bottom lip to prevent anything even more embarrassing from slipping out. The soft plea seemed to be what Carter was waiting on, however; he felt Carter slide his finger up to the head of his cock, gathering the considerable amount of precum that had built up and spreading it throughout his shaft, effectively lubing the organ up. It was after that that he finally felt the police detective wrap his hand completely around his cock, establishing a slow pace of stroking his hand.

Norman shakily exhaled the breath he'd unwittingly been holding, fidgeting in Carter's lap as he fought the urge to thrust into the older man's hand. The rough texture of Carter's palm provided a lovely contrast to his own softer flesh – and it also served as a reminder that it was Carter Blake that was the one pleasuring him. That thought alone was enough to make another soft moan escape past his lips, and he shifted his head to the side with a slight shudder, allowing Carter complete access to his neck and shoulder. Carter took the invitation immediately, moving his lips downward to the small stretch of skin between where his shoulder met his neck and sucking there firmly.

"Ah- Ah, _fawk_-" Norman clenched his teeth together as he tried to fight down the pressure growing in his abdomen. He tried to tell himself it was just a simple handjob, but the simple fact that it was Carter willingly pleasuring him was enough to heighten the stimulation to the point where he lost control of his hips and began thrusting into Carter's movements.

He hadn't noticed Carter's other hand moving down his frame until it rested itself on the inside of his thigh, fingers grazing there in a semi-circular motion. Norman released another held breath, only for it to hitch in his throat as he felt Carter's hand slide further between his legs, easily locating his balls and cupping them in his hand as his thumb rubbed them in a fashion that was positively gentle.

Nonetheless, it was a sudden and unexpected stimulus that pushed Norman right over the edge. His eyes clenched such as he came, hips rising off Carter's lap briefly before falling back against him, letting his back relax against the older man's chest as his eyelids fluttered in an attempt to regain his composure. After a moment filled with only the sound of his own panted breathes, he shifted slightly in an attempt to situate himself more comfortably – his whole body twitching forward slightly as he subsequently brushed against a certain stiffness he was all too familiar with.

In place of irritation, Norman's lips quipped at the feeling of Carter's erection pressed against the small of his back as he twisted his neck and shoulder to meet the lieutenant's eyes. "Just…gimme a few minutes," he sighed shakily, the resignation in his voice was softened by his expression. Carter cracked a smile as well as he reached out, grabbing a handful of his soft brown hair before playfully ruffling it up.

Norman let himself be pulled closer by the action, the affectionate display filling him with another sense of accomplishment. It in turn spurred him on to boldly grab the lieutenant's face with both hands, pulling him forward to break the remaining space between them before pressing their lips together. To his slight surprise, Carter didn't pull away, instead reciprocating the gesture, using his body weight to push Norman back into the mattress without breaking the kiss.

The desire to protest over the lack of a break disappeared completely from Norman's head as he felt Carter's weight on top of him, his mind going blank as his body prepared itself for a second round.

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><p><strong>*probably not<strong>


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